Swing For Absolution
by malevolentrobot
Summary: "Even if you prove me wrong, I will never agree with you." A snippet of Peter and Sylar dealing with their problems, set during 4x18 "The Wall".


**title:** swing for absolution  
**rating:** PG-13  
**pairing: **peter/sylar  
**notes:** spoilers for up season 4  
**summary:** for the prompt "even if you prove me wrong, i will never agree with you" set during the absolute effery that was "the wall". i'm sorry but, kring, what are you doing to mah show?

_.  
__  
Our wrongs remain unrectified, and our souls won't be exhumed  
_  
.

As it turns out, having to rescue your sworn worst enemy from your friend so said enemy can save your other friend and help you save the world was just the beginning of insanity. The middle went something like having to deal with camping out in previously mentioned enemies' worst nightmare for much, _much_ longer than expected in the _Peter's Guide to Timetables for Saving the World in one Night All on the Fly. _Especially given the fact the man was being, for all the powers in the goddamn world, absolutely useless.

"You could, you know, magically make a bulldozer appear or at least pick up an imaginary sledgehammer and help me with this imaginary wall in your head, Sylar," Peter grumbled, finally putting down his own sledgehammer to wipe the perspiration from his forehead before it trickled down to sting his eyes. Two hours of hammering away and Matt's wall in Sylar's mind still hadn't taken even a chip under assault he'd given it. He had a faint notion that brick walls were pretty strong, but the damn thing couldn't be _this _indestructible.

"This is real, Peter. This is my penance," Sylar repeated, barely looking over a copy of _Dante's Inferno_ he found in the apartment below him that he discreetly raided for food last night, unbeknownst to Peter, sleeping soundly in Sylar's own bed he so graciously gave up. This empty world may be his punishment for all the wicked deeds he had done in his lifetime, but sleeping horribly on top of starving them to death seemed a little on the unnecessarily cruel side to the both of them.

"Besides, you need to take a break. Even if this is imaginary to you, you look like you're about to pass out."

"We need to get out of here! We're supposed to be saving the world right now!" Peter rasped, before throwing down the battered sledgehammer, stalking towards the other man. "And you, if you really are one of the good guys right now, which I'm seriously starting to doubt, you should be helping me with this wall so we can-"

"Save the world?" Sylar chimed, not skipping a beat. "Yeah, I know, Pete. Too bad that whole carnie debacle was, by my calculations, a couple _months_ ago."

"It can't be, it has to be an illusion. It's probably the exact same time as when I went to Matt's apartment. What we need to do is focus on breaking down this wall down and we'll be free of this nightmare, finally."

"Your denial astounds me, so much like your mother," Sylar retorts, rolling his eyes, setting down his book to hand Pete a Pepsi. "Here's an idea, have a cold soda. I found a vending machine around the corner that still works. Yummy."

Peter gave him very small and curt thanks, bending down to where Sylar was sitting on the concrete, taking the soda before batting the other man's still outstretched hand away, even though he found he had trouble regaining his balance.

"See, I told you," Sylar chided gently. "You _are_ about to pass out. You never know when to give up, Pete. It's one of those things I've always admired about you. Just like that one time when we were growing up, you-"

Sylar barely had the time to blink before Peter was inches from his face, trembling yet still grabbing the collar of his shirt in an iron grip.

"I told you not to do that! You're not _him._ You are the man who took him away from me, and now," he paused, letting go of Sylar's shirt before looking at him disgusted, "you're just pathetic. You say you want to right your wrongs, but you won't fight for what's right. I had a vision, Sylar. A vision that you helped me and we saved the world. Doesn't that matter at all to you?"

Crossing his arms, Peter sat down, still staring at Sylar. A moment passed. Two, before Sylar quietly cleared his throat, staring at the giant brick behemoth in front of them.

"You're right. I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it," Peter replied, looking away and taking a sip of his soda. "Just saying sorry doesn't change the things you've done. Even if you prove me and everyone else wrong and show us that you are good, that it was just your power, I will never agree with what you did to me, to Claire, to Nathan. Saving the world might be a small step in the right direction, but it's not forgiveness." Peter stood up, picking up his sledgehammer, crushing the soda can in a graceful arc of wood, steel, and muscle. "If I hadn't that vision, I would have left you to rot for all you've done."

"Oh ho, the great Saint Peter isn't so benevolent after all. You think I expected your absolution, Peter? I said sorry because I meant it, and I still do. Just because you won't accept it doesn't mean it should go unsaid," Sylar answered, standing up and pocketing his book, before brushing dirt off his black pants. "And another thing, reality check, Peter; the world's always in need of saving!"

"That doesn't mean we shouldn't try," Peter replied. "Now stop feeling sorry for yourself, pick up a sledgehammer and come help me."


End file.
